by Vicki Tharp
On the way back to the apartment, Gil spotted Tessa and Jack out by the barn feeding carrots to a rather rotund, black and white pony. He needed to talk to her, but he needed to shake Burton first.
At the apartment, he and Burton met with the rest of the men, changed into tactical pants, boots and T-shirts. Then they checked, and double checked their weapons, loaded up with extra magazines, their Glocks in their thigh holsters and M-4s ready to sling over their shoulders.
Burton even handed out the newest bulletproof vests. The ones Gil had only read about online. Hopefully, he wouldn’t get to see for himself how much more effective they were. Then Burton pulled up an aerial view of where they were going, giving each man an assigned position. It was the mine.
Martin was The Wolf.
When the two SUVs were loaded with their gear, they had a few minutes of downtime before they had to leave. Burton had gone back up to the apartment and Gil skirted down the path to the barn.
He found Tessa on the backside of the barn, supervising Jack as he finished tacking up the pony for a ride.
“Hey,” Gil said, as he came up behind her.
Her lips curved into a smile, but the worry line between her brows remained. “You shouldn’t be here. If anyone sees you with me—”
“I’d tell them I was checking on Jack.” He turned his attention to her son as Jack put his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over. “How are you feeling, Squirt?”
“Terrible. I missed archery day, and Billy’s mom was supposed to bring brownies.”
Jack clucked to the pony, and the two started walking down the paddock’s fence line. Gil stood close to Tessa, his black T-shirt stretched across that thick, broad chest. The intricate black dragon tattoo curled up his arms like a living, breathing creature, and disappeared beneath the short sleeve banding Gil’s bicep.
That undercurrent of electricity that always pinged her nerves and made her hormones go haywire whenever he was near, triggered again. Having to pretend she didn’t know him hadn’t been easy, and her concern someone might catch her staring at him like a love struck sap was real.
As if her attraction to Gil wasn’t enough of a worry, there was also Jack to deal with. Trying to keep her son’s interaction with Gil to a minimum was like trying to pull a rare earth magnet off a solid block of charismatic steel. Jack couldn’t stay away any more than she could.
Something about Gil drew her to him. Stronger than the magnetic pull Gil had on her son. Stronger even than the gentle, unrelenting, tug of the moon on the tides. Being around Gil changed her in ways she couldn’t articulate but felt at her very core as if the structure of her DNA would unravel without him.
As an independent woman, it scared her shitless.
Luckily for her, Gil, and the mission, Bradley didn’t know Jack’s fascination with being in his father’s office had nothing to do with Bradley and everything to do with Gil.
She focused on his face, on the hardscrabble of his features, the thin press of his lips. Something was going down. The spit dried in her mouth. “What’s happening?”
“We’re heading to the old mine. The same one the truck was tracked to. Martin’s expecting a big shipment coming in by rail. Spinks’ previous orders stand. We are observation and intel gathering only. The task force will move in once the merchandise is ready to ship out.”
“That could be too late. What if—”
“Not our call. Spinks is a little gun shy with one suspect dead and two of his men in the hospital. He wants to make sure all the T’s are crossed, the I’s are dotted, and everything is authorized and signed in quadruplicate.
“I don’t like it,” Tessa said. “You have no backup.”
“I’ll be fine.”
From the open doors at the back of the barn, they could see straight down the barn aisle as Burton’s men gathered by the black Tahoes, all tacked up and looking like the presidential security detail.
Gil placed a hand on her elbow and guided her out of direct line of sight. Jack glanced up long enough for his eyes to light and send Gil a smile, but he was too busy guiding the pony through the series of cones they’d set up in the paddock to bother coming back over.
If this relationship crashed and burned, she didn’t know who would take it harder. Her or Jack.
Gil stared down at her, his hard gaze turning to mush as he brought a hand to her face and brushed a lock of hair back from her forehead. Everywhere he looked, her eyes, her cheeks, her lips— was the gentlest of caresses that made her heart trip and her stomach falter. Ducking his head, he skimmed his lips over hers, the barest, briefest of touches—a foot skidding on the edge of an abyss—as if he were afraid that if he pressed harder, longer, he’d tumble and never hit bottom.
“I need your help.”
“Anything.” Deep down inside, she knew she didn’t just mean the mission.
He hesitated. Could he hear her thoughts, feel her sincerity? He shook his head as if clearing his mind. “Martin’s going with us. I need you to try to get in his safe and get a look at that journal. He keeps everything in there. If you could get photos, send them to Spinks, maybe he could have Massey run down the other end of the money trail.”
“Sure.” There was no hesitation even as she felt the color drain from her face. The boulder that had been sitting solidly in the pit of her stomach since Bradley had taken Jack, shifted. Bradley wasn’t a man to trifle with. If she got caught—
Gil cupped her face, and she met his eyes. “No worries, yeah? Martin and the rest of the men will be gone. All you need to do is slip past Sloan, and you’re in the clear. You’ve got this.”
She wanted to curl up into him, but she stood straighter and nodded. Compared to Gil, she had the nonhazardous job. She wasn’t the one who would be surrounded by a bunch of men with M-4s strapped across their chests. Men who could turn on him with one word from Burton or her ex.
He traced the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, and his eyes went hot and dark as he closed the thin gap between them. Boots scuffed in the aisle, and they jumped apart like two kids caught kissing in the corner at the Sadie Hawkins dance.
Burton came out the back, his gaze shifting from Gil to her and back again. Gil, the poster boy for calm, cool, and collected hitched his thumb over his shoulder at Jack and said, “Checking on the kid. Cough’s much better. We ready to go?”
She probably looked like she’d pinched a candy bar from the gas station.
Burton didn’t answer. He gave her a disapproving look and turned on his heel. Gil followed and that boulder in her stomach not only shifted, it started to roll. How long had Burton been standing there? Had he seen them together? More importantly, had he heard them?
Gil and Burton were in one Tahoe. Two of the other security guys, Wu and Price, were in the another. And Martin, Carter—who was at the wheel—and Young, were in the S class Mercedes, with a trunk full of money.
Burton wasn’t much of a talker when the conversation didn’t center around guns and tactics and women, but the uneasy quiet that settled between them gave Gil no doubt that Burton had heard or at least seen something back at the barn.
Someone without Gil’s undercover experience might be fighting the urge to stick a finger under his collar and give it a tug. But Gil wasn’t the kind of guy who tugged at a tight collar, he was the type who tightened it around his opponent’s neck. “If there’s something you want to say, then say it.”
Burton’s right arm rested on the center console, his fingers inches away from the Glock in his thigh holster. Gil subtly shifted his weight to his left hip, to make his own gun more easily accessible. He wasn’t expecting the inside of the Tahoe to become a shooting gallery, but Uncle Sam, the ATF, and life, had taught him to that even the best plans don’t survive first contact.
“A word of advice.” Burton took his eyes off the road long enough to give Gil a look. The same kind of look Gil’s dad used to give him when his father knew he was probably wasting his breath. “Stay
away from Martin’s woman.”
“I was checking on the kid.”
Burton didn’t have to say, “Riiight.” The snort of derision said it for him.
Better to make Burton believe he had a thing for Tessa than for Burton to start suspecting the truth. “She’s not Martin’s woman. At least not anymore.”
They were in the rear car, and Burton kept a close eye on the rear-view mirror for signs of trouble, but as they made their way through the foothills toward the mine, there was little traffic. “You think you know her?”
“Enough.” Gil allowed.
“I’m trying to look out for you, buddy. Not a guy here that doesn’t think about bending her over Martin’s massive mahogany desk. But trust me, no piece of ass, no matter how nice, is worth getting on Martin’s shit list.”
Bending her over the desk. Piece of ass.
If Gil had been a younger man, with a quicker temper, he might not have been able to keep from knocking a couple of Burton’s teeth in. Luckily, Gil wasn’t the hothead he used to be.
“What can I say? I saved her kid. She’s got some of that hero worship thing going on. You can’t blame me for taking advantage of the opportunity.” Gil turned to Burton and gave him one of those you-with-me-bro? smiles. “You’ve seen that ass, right? Totally worth it.”
Burton just shook his head. “It always is… at the time.”
“Got any other words of advice, Dad?” Gil broke the tension. “You could give me the birds and the bees speech.”
Burton flicked Gil a glance and chuckled. “You’re a dick, man.” But there was hardness in Burton’s eyes that made Gil wonder if Burton had heard more of his and Tessa’s conversation than he’d let on, but before he could ask any questions, Martin’s car pulled off the road at a scenic overlook.
“What the hell?” Burton pulled in behind the Mercedes and as he went to get out, said to Gil, “Get out and watch our six.”
Gil got out, as well as Wu and Price who were in front of the Mercedes in their Tahoe. Burton approached the Mercedes as Martin’s blacked out window behind the driver buzzed down. From where Gil stood, he couldn’t hear the conversation, but from the grip Burton had on the door frame as he leaned down, Burton wasn’t happy.
After a brief conversation, Burton stepped back, the window buzzed up, and Burton waved at Wu and Price to get back in their vehicles and follow him.
Gil climbed into the Tahoe as the Mercedes drove back the way they’d come. “What’s going on?”
“Martin forgot something. He’s going back.”
Back? Gil’s chest squeezed, and his heart whooshed behind his eardrums. He glanced at his watch. They’d only been on the road ten minutes, maybe fifteen at most. Would Tessa try this soon to get in the safe, or would she wait a little longer?
“Shouldn’t we be following him? That’s a hell of a lot of money not to have an armed escort.”
“He’s more worried that we get in a defensive position before the shipment arrives. He says he won’t be long. I don’t like it, but he’s got Carter and Young with him. Carter can out drive anyone, and Young was never one to hesitate to pull a trigger if need be.”
The way Burton said it, it was like he was trying to convince himself as much as Gil.
“You didn’t tell him that was a bad idea?”
“I told him, and he’s paying me good money to ignore my advice.”
As they sped toward the mine, Gil said, “How much further?”
“What are you? Five? You need me to stop the truck so you can take a piss?”
No. So he could pull out his encrypted phone and send a warning to Tessa. “Actually, yeah.”
“You have got to be shitting me.”
Gil put his hands up and did his best to look embarrassed. “Sorry, man.”
“It’s only like fifteen more minutes.”
In fifteen minutes, Martin could be back at the house, and it could be too late. “Either you pull over, or I’m pissing in the truck. Your call.”
Burton huffed out an exasperated sigh, but he pulled over. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
“Two seconds.” Gil stepped out of the truck before it had come to a complete stop. Keeping his back to the truck, he took a piss as he fished the phone out of his pocket and fired off a quick text to Tessa, hating that he didn’t have time to wait for an answer.
As soon as Gil and the rest of them had left, Tessa pulled Jack off the pony, stripped the saddle and bridle off and turned it loose into the paddock by the barn before high-tailing it back to the house.
The window of opportunity to try to get into Bradley’s safe was narrow. There was no telling how long he would be gone, and more importantly, how long it would take her to get into the safe.
If she could.
In her mind, she ran through possible number combinations Bradley might use for the combination. Short of guessing or finding the numbers written down, her chances of getting in were slim, but she had to try.
Tessa plopped Jack in his room in front of his favorite cartoon channel with a bowl of dry cereal full of sugar and tiny marshmallows, feeling like the worse mom ever, but she didn’t have much choice.
She reached for the bedroom door and started pulling it closed behind her.
“Mooom,” Jack whined, “why can’t I go with you?”
She stuck her head back in the room. Because you can’t ever not talk, and I can’t take the chance that Sloan will hear us. “It’ll just be a few minutes. When I’m done, we can finish the Spiderman puzzle. Deal?”
Jack rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Fiiine.”
“Stay here,” but Jack had already turned back to the cartoons and tuned her out.
Tessa worked her way back downstairs, keeping her ears out for Sloan, but that guy was like some kind of personal assistant Ninja. You never seemed to hear him coming. One second, he was nowhere, and the next he was behind you.
She swung through the kitchen hoping to find him there to keep an eye on his whereabouts, but he wasn’t anywhere around. Not wanting to waste any more time, she headed straight for Bradley’s office.
Standing outside the door, she put her ear to the thick wood but heard no noise coming from the other side. The brass knob was cold to the touch as she turned it and pushed the door open.
“Can I help you?”
Tessa slapped a hand over her chest and barely managed to keep her heart behind her sternum. Her pulse beat at her temples and sweat immediately formed along her hairline. “I’m going to have to put a bell around your neck if you don’t stop slinking through the halls.” She cracked a smile.
Sloan didn’t.
She pointed a finger inside the office. “Bradley said I could use his computer for the investor reports until he could get a chance to get me my own laptop.”
“Did he now?”
“Yes,” Tessa tossed in a healthy dose of irritation to match Sloan’s. It wasn’t difficult. “He did.”
He still looked suspicious.
Tessa pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it out to Sloan. “You can call and ask. He wanted them done before he got back tonight. I don’t have much time.”
He eyed her phone, but she knew as well as Sloan did that Bradley wouldn’t want to be interrupted with a phone call while he was in the middle of conducting important business.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”
“Some peace and quiet.”
Closing the door, she waited on the other side for Sloan to open the door or find an excuse to come in. She waited about a minute, and when he hadn’t come into the room, she hurried over to Bradley’s desk and started searching through the drawers.
She must have spent five minutes checking drawers, even going as far as pulling each one out and looking underneath in case he had taped the combination to the bottom of a drawer, but no luck. Not a complete surprise. Bradley didn’t strike her as the type of man who would leave something like that laying around.
That left trying to run through possible number combinations on the safe’s tumbler. Bradley wouldn’t use something as simple as a birthday or anniversary as the combination. He wasn’t sentimental like that. But that was all she had to go with.
She had about exhausted all the possible number combinations she could think of when she heard the latch on the office door click. She turned to scramble back to the desk when a little brown head appeared around the door.
“Mom?”
Tessa pinched the bridge of her nose and called on every last rag-tag shred of her tattered patience to keep from raising her voice at Jack. “I told you to stay in your room.”
“I know, but—”
She waved him in. She didn’t want Sloan to see him standing in the hall. “Come in. Close the door behind you.”
She turned back toward the safe. She had two more number combinations to try. If those didn’t work, then they were out of luck. “What did you need, big guy?”
Jack said something, but she was too focused on the spin of the dial, trying not to overshoot the last number, that she didn’t catch what he’d said. She grabbed the handle and gave it a twist, but like all the other times, it didn’t turn. Crap.
Several beads of sweat slipped down her spine, and her heart ratcheted up a notch as she stole a glance over her shoulder to make sure the office door remained closed. She wasn’t cut out for undercover work, that was for sure. Give her a helo sucking fumes in the middle of a kick-your-ass, blackout sand storm any day of the week.
She sucked in a breath and held it, then slowly let it out.
“Mom.”
“Give me one more sec—”
“Your phone went off.”
Her phone was in the front pocket of her jeans. She shook her right foot, but no phone rattled in her boot. She spun on her heel and snatched the encrypted phone from her son’s hand. “Thanks.”
She went to enter the code for the lock screen when Jack said, “Why don’t you use the keypad like dad uses?”
Her fingers stilled mid dial spin, and she glanced up at her son. “What do you mean? What keypad?”